


We Find in the Sea

by derseofprospit



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon-Compliant, I am not really sure how to rate this, Lance-centric, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Water metaphors, kind of?, more in the future though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 03:50:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13263036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derseofprospit/pseuds/derseofprospit
Summary: "For whatever we lose (like a you or a me),It is always our self we find in the sea." - E.E CummingsIt was obvious Lance was willing to work for what he wanted. He knew not to tire himself, or else the anxiety of each battle, the less frequent but still crushing defeats would overwhelm him. They would come crashing down on him in a vicious tsunami.It was that very same tsunami Lance found in Keith.





	We Find in the Sea

"For whatever we lose (like a you or a me)  
It's always our self we find in the sea." - E.E Cummings 

* * *

Lance had never been more exhausted in his life.

It was the physical prowess required of each paladin to go out fighting. The agility they must possess. To always be on their toes waiting for the inevitable galra attacks to come raining down. Lance couldn’t fathom how Keith could work out for hours alone in his room, or train with the gladiator from breakfast until dinner and late into the night. From their battles alone, his muscles constantly ached.

It was the loneliness provoked by their sudden ejection from Earth. Every day, after the adrenaline sizzled away and the paladins were left to their own devices, Lance would sit in his room and think about Earth. He would think about what his mother was making for dinner, and the next exam his sister was supposed to take, and the feeling of overwhelming pride he’d felt when he won his first swim competition and his entire family enveloped him in their excitement. When he said goodbye to them on his first day at the Garrison, he didn’t know it might be the last time he would get to see his family. He would think about the other students there, if they ever wondered what happened to him. Did they know that the paladins worked their asses off day in and day out to protect them? 

It was the low morale left among the team after Shiro’s disappearance. Allura and Coran could only do so much to keep the paladins in high spirits when their own fear and uncertainty plagued them. He knew that Keith had felt the deepest connection to Shiro, he knew that Pidge’s family was close with Shiro, he knew that Shiro and Allura worked closely together as leaders, and so Lance felt a minute prick of guilt in his chest for moping around like this. Did he really deserve to feel so hurt, when the others have it worse? Shiro was his hero, a role model he’d looked up to since childhood, and his most beloved teammate. Shiro was the string that tethered the team together through shared respect and momentous admiration. Lance felt like he was trapped under the waves of a violent and unforgiving ocean – surrounded by frozen pressure, by blinding darkness and suffocating in the silence.

He couldn’t tell which way was up.

Today he found himself thinking about these things under the blue glow of the pool. He sat unfeeling on the cold ground, letting the gentle reflections of light wash over him and soothe his anxiety. The room was immense and dim, making Lance feel miniscule in comparison. He felt about as small in the vastness of space, fighting the galra, searching for Shiro, defending the universe. How could he be expected to defend something so enormous, so densely populated and in need of so much? Lance shut his eyes and let the tonic smell of chlorine replace the stagnant air in his body. Up here, the ocean was no longer suffocating Lance, it had calmed to a lake within him. The babbling brooks forming blood cells, reviving him, empowering him.  
In his solace, he didn’t expect Keith to arrive through the elevator doors on the opposite side of the room.

For a while, every time a word came from Keith, Lance’s heart would race. He would boil over with anxiety and it spilled out of his mouth in the form of competition. Always being compared to Keith, always comparing himself to Keith – he had all the talents and work ethic Lance wished he possessed. Lance’s easygoing nature clashed with Keith’s heat. They were magnets facing the wrong direction, repelling each other at every angle when they were meant to work as a team. Could he have sensed Lance’s loneliness and come to comfort him? Keith could be a hardass at times, but he and Lance had built a mutual respect in the months they’ve been fighting together.

“Coran was looking for you.”

“What for?” He stood unmoving by the doors. Lance wondered briefly how Keith knew he was up here.

“The ship needs maintenance,” said Keith.

“Why can’t you help him? You went to all that effort to find me,” said Lance. 

“You and Pidge are more agreeable to work with. What are you doing up here?” Keith glanced at the pool on the ceiling. He took a few steps in Lance’s direction. Lance’s heartbeat spiked. 

“What does it look like? I’m drinking lemonade.” 

“Spill.”

“What? No way!”

“I didn’t mean your damn lemonade – ” Keith stepped back towards the elevator. His scowl shifted into something Lance might confuse for sympathy. “I’ll tell Coran you’re busy.”

Keith wasn’t one to pick up on subtleties, but this tiny favor dropped a pebble in the lake of Lance’s blood, rippling from his chest outwards to his toes, left him feeling lighter than when he came here. 

* * *

The training deck felt worse for wear. Lance would often find Shiro in there lifting weights, doing push-ups, but when he wandered down, he found Keith sparring with the gladiator.

He wasn’t one to take breaks in the eye of a storm, but Lance noticed Keith had thrown himself into his work since Shiro was gone. He was an unstoppable force.

“Every moment we spend not working towards our goal, who knows what’s happening to Shiro!” Keith had shouted at Lance once, baring his teeth at the boy lounging comfortably on the couch.

It wasn’t that Lance didn’t want to work for it. For a long time, everyone thought that was his problem. That he had big dreams and was unable to deliver because he refused to put in the effort required to follow through. After working tirelessly to defeat galra fleets, pouring every ounce of energy into keeping spirits up on the ship in darker times, it was obvious Lance was willing to work for what he wanted. He knew not to overwork himself, or else the anxiety of each battle, the less frequent but still crushing defeats would overwhelm him. They would come crashing down on him in a vicious tsunami.

It was that very same tsunami Lance found in Keith. And why, when it came time, he could accept the Black Lion’s choice. 

Flying Red somehow felt both right and wrong. The speed and connection came quick and exhilarating, and moving up the ranks was an indicator that he was doing something right. But he couldn’t help but feel Keith’s ghost in the cockpit. This was Keith’s position in Voltron. This was Keith’s bayard. This was Keith’s lion. 

Lance had attempted to become closer to Keith through the changing of the guard. Both were battling their internal wars while fighting a real one, so Lance learned to reach out an olive branch. He had been hesitant at first, but fitting into position as Keith’s right hand was as natural as learning to swim. 

While lost in thought, Lance found himself admiring Keith. He had to admit that he looked his best in these moments. Because the gladiator continuously shredded his V-necks, he had stopped wearing shirts on the training deck. His sweats hung low on his hips, so Lance glimpsed the V of Keith’s abdomen, the suggestion of velvety skin and gentle curves below the hard calluses and scars that littered the rest of his body. He was all lean muscle, powerful and glistening with sweat. Every move Keith made was purposeful and fueled with unwavering heat. Allowing his natural intensity to translate into combat, swinging his bayard like a deadly extension of his own arm, to Lance, it always seemed that Keith was made to fight. He wondered if that same intensity translated elsewhere. The thought made something stir in Lance’s core.

Lance allowed himself to give Keith a good once-over. From his stance, wide and confident – to his long legs and ripped jeans. The V of his abdomen. The curve of his ass. The powerful expanse of his back. His heaving chest. His lean arms. His glistening skin. The tiny ponytail he kept to prevent hair falling in his eyes while training. The fire in those eyes. For a hot second, Lance yearned to see Keith, sweating, breathing heavily with that same stamina, that same fire in his eyes, under different circumstances. It made his heart beat a little harder, a little faster.

“You spend so much time with that thing. When are you gonna propose?” Lance called out. The sound of swords clashing and the thud of Keith’s body hitting the ground were music to his ears.

Keith muttered for the training sequence to end before grumbling, “propose what?”

He stood and stared at Lance, chest heaving. Suddenly Keith’s density made Lance a little uncomfortable. Keith was intelligent, so why was he so obtuse? Lance shifted awkwardly.

“… Ya know, like marriage and stuff.”

“Why would I want to marry a robot?”

Lance sighed. Keith went back to training. 

* * *

The first time Lance realized his interests were not restricted to girls was jarring to say the least.

Perhaps it was the touch-starved hormonal teenaged boy within him. Spending so long living in close proximity to 4 other men and Pidge must have been gradually shifting his sexual desires, going unnoticed by his subconscious until now. At least, that was the excuse he fed himself. 

The realization hit him as he was lying in bed, idly palming his erection through his briefs and letting his mind wander. It landed first on Nyma, handcuffing him to a tree. Before she had made a break for it, he’d thought she was just into stuff like that. And while the force of it intimidated Lance, the way his heart leaped into his throat had little to do with fear. She was astoundingly gorgeous, but he couldn’t shake the bubble of anger that rose in his throat at the thought of her stealing and selling his lion to Zarkon. Keith had reprimanded him about it later that evening. Perhaps if she had run off with Keith like that, he would have been in Lance’s place, helpless and stuck in the middle of nowhere.

And what a thought that was.

Keith hunched over, tied to a tree among the stars. Keith, surrounded by colorful mist and purple rocks and the scent of something sweet in the air combined with the musk of sweat. Keith, flushed and breathing heavily in anticipation.

Keith.

Lance shut his eyes and sighed. The heat of pleasure curled inside him as he slid his hand under his waistband. Keith was gorgeous, too. Fighting beside him day to day, watching him train, Lance eventually memorized Keith’s patterns. He knew the force behind each swing of Keith’s fist or sword, and for reasons he couldn’t explain, that intensity sparked something within him. Watching him spar with the gladiator was always something. He exerted himself to his very limit, sparkling with beaded sweat and chest heaving, red from cheeks to chest. Sometimes he pulled his shirt off during particularly exhausting sessions, leaving Lance feeling weak in the knees for reasons he couldn’t justify. 

His imagination shifted to being on the receiving end of that force. Keith, flushed and glistening in sweat, pounding mercilessly into Lance, gripping his ass tightly in one hand. The overwhelming ache stood in sharp contrast to the gentle, calloused fingers wandering over Lance’s skin. Or would Keith rather catch? The thought made Lance’s heart pound.

Lance was jarred from his fantasies by a crash in the hallway. He flinched hard, smacking his face into the wall and wincing as he climbed out of bed. Though he suspected the clatter came from Pidge or Hunk, Lance peaked into the hallway with caution.

Pidge and Keith were squatting on the ground on either side of what looked like a clunky computer, three times the size of the machines Lance is used to seeing Pidge drag through the halls. 

“What’s with all the noise out here? You guys havin’ a party?” he stepped closer, noticing a dish and several geometrically shaped metal objects splayed out on the ground.

“We’re just carrying this over to my room. Sorry to wake you, Lance,” Pidge muttered from the floor. “You can go back to sleep.”

“Well, you lucked out, I wasn’t asleep yet.” 

“I know,” Pidge deadpanned, throwing a pointed glance at Lance’s lap.

He changed the subject. 

“What, did Keith end up helping you just because he’s the only one still up? Where’s Hunk?”

“Keith offered.” 

The idea was laughable. Lance could never imagine Keith being helpful outside of battle, especially for the benefit of someone else. That same boiling of rivalry rolled through Lance’s fingertips. 

“He must have an ulterior motive or something,” Lance muttered, picking up a coiled wire next to Pidge. 

They carried the machine together towards Pidge’s room with minimal damage; Lance, scowling at Keith from the opposite end of the monitor. Once they dumped everything onto their floor, Pidge swiftly kicked the boys out. They walked in silence toward their rooms, but the longer the quiet stretched on the more Lance thought about Shiro, and about Allura, and about Keith. He cut through it. 

“Seriously, why were you helping Pidge carry that thing around? Do you owe her a favor or something?” said Lance. 

“It’s for someone we both care about,” said Keith. 

Shiro. 

“Oh,” said Lance. 

They split off to their rooms. That night, the water running within Lance rushed like a river. He tossed and turned, staring at the ceiling and drifting to sleep listening to the sound of his rapids.

**Author's Note:**

> It has been literally 4 years since I last posted a fic and I apologize for that. Turns out, high school is time consuming.


End file.
